Escape, the Complete Trilogy

by David Antocci

  Thinking about that now, her rage rose up and drove her forward.

  He continued shouting from the kitchen, “Mikey, are you OK?”

  She couldn’t stand to hear his voice anymore and fired three more shots in anger. They harmlessly struck a bookshelf. The other side of the house went silent.

  Two more down, she thought. Keep it together.

  The room where she stood was in the rear right of the house. Hundreds of books lined the walls, opposite to the kitchen she had just shot up. The voices were coming down a small hallway that she assumed led to the kitchen. Abby tiptoed her way toward the hallway, past the guards she had just relieved of their duties.

  She stopped just off to the side. There was a large picture mounted halfway down the hall. Not a nice painting on canvas, but a print of a painting mounted in a frame with a glass front. Its placement perfectly reflected one of the remaining men in the kitchen, who was crouched behind the large island. She did not recognize him.

  Monte was nowhere to be seen.

  * * *

  Mikey G. had just opened the door to the patio to check in with his guards when the explosion rocked the other side of the door. He backed up and drew his gun, looking out the large picture window to find that his guards were not there and the patio was engulfed in flames. Seconds later, a commotion down the hallway indicated that men ran from the dining room at the front of the house, through the kitchen and out the rear door.

  Just a moment later there was gunfire, more yelling, and screaming, “We’re under attack!” he heard.

  Mikey ran to the foyer at the front of the house, crashing into Randy who came running out of the video closet. “I’m going for Rosso. Take the kitchen—they’re coming in the back.” Randy took off as Mikey yelled for the two front guards who were already bursting through the front door. “Head to the library!” he yelled, pointing toward the back. “And don’t let anyone through those doors.”

  Mikey took the stairs two at a time and burst through Rosso’s bedroom door. The old man was already sitting up in bed, his Rosary beads clutched in his left hand, his right supporting his weight with an IV stand. His heart monitor beeped wildly.

  Rosso managed a weak voice. “What’s going on down there Mikey?”

  “We’re being attacked. I’m getting you out of here.” Mikey went to pick up Rosso but stopped to look at the IV drip and monitors attached to his chest.

  Gaetano Rosso smiled at his trusted guard. “I’m not going anywhere, Mikey. I’m done. I’m history. Get down there and protect Franco. It’s probably Monte’s crew, here for him. He’s your man now, Mikey.” Rosso lay back on his pillows and repeated himself quietly. “He’s your man now.”

  Mikey was at a loss for words. He had spent the majority of his adult life protecting Rosso, who now lay helpless in bed as thugs raided his home. He stood not knowing what to do, while at the same time knowing exactly what he had to do.

  Rosso stared at him, and out of nowhere managed to summon a voice of authority. “Don’t worry about me, Mikey. Get the fuck down there and protect Franco!”

  Mikey nodded and ran back downstairs, hitting the foyer floor as a bright flash and another explosion rocked the library. He ran the opposite way, toward the dining room, but stopped before entering. He could see the long table that had a plate of pastries in the middle and steaming coffee cups in front of several chairs. The men had clearly just sat down to continue discussing the family situation when they ran toward the commotion.

  He eased forward just enough to see through the large opening that led into the kitchen. He could see Franco, crouched behind the island, gun drawn. He saw Monte, as well, in the dining room, hiding behind the wall of the opening to the kitchen. His gun drawn, he stood behind Franco and to the left.

  Seeing Monte behind Franco made Mikey nervous. Where is Randy? he wondered.

  Three more shots rang out from the library. How many of them are there?

  No matter, Mikey thought. He realized that the raid, presumably by Monte’s crew, offered him a perfect opportunity to carry out his boss’s final order.

  Raising his gun carefully, he eased forward so the barrel just cleared the doorway. He set his sights on Monte standing thirty feet away on the other side of the dining room, who had no idea what was about to happen.

  Just as he squeezed the trigger, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a small gray tube roll along the kitchen floor into the opening, and then he was blinded.

  * * *

  Abby eased back from the hallway opening and pulled another flash-bang grenade out of her pouch. She clicked the fuse and rolled it down the hall, counting down in her head. When she hit five, she crouched low, closed her eyes, and covered her ears. Whoever was left in the kitchen would be blind and near deaf, allowing her to charge in and take care of those last two before going upstairs to Rosso.

  Three... two... Suddenly she was grabbed from behind as the count hit one. She didn’t open her eyes, but her ears were exposed as she instinctively reached behind her with her hands to try to grab onto whoever had seized her.

  Although it was fifteen feet down the hall, the blast knocked out every sound around her. Her assailant, however, had his eyes open and let go of her momentarily to grab at his face, his pupils burning as if he had looked straight into the sun. Now free, Abby spun, using her momentum to land a solid kick to Randy’s midsection, knocking the wind out of him. He fell, clutching his stomach. As he landed, Abby planted her boot to the side of his face, connecting with his jawline and bringing a cry from him that she heard through the ringing in her ears.

  Apparently his shrieks also reached the men in the kitchen. Franco and Mikey came running into the room and tackled her from behind. The three landed on the floor in a heap. Her .22 fell from her hand and clattered off to the side, just out of reach. Her small canister rolled away, out of sight.

  Despite the surprise attack, Abby twisted from Franco’s grip and landed an elbow to his windpipe. With him disabled, she sprung to her feet to find the second assailant.

  She didn’t see Mikey behind her, but saw Monte charging down the hallway toward her. Like a flash of lightning, she grabbed the .45 from its holster and aimed it at Monte, squeezing off two shots. The first hit his shoulder; the second missed entirely as the recoil of the huge gun jerked her shoulder back and off-target. She never had a chance to get off a third shot as Mikey chopped her arm from the side, right at the wrist, sending the second weapon to the floor just a few feet from where Monte landed. Abby was caught off-guard, and Mikey used that to his advantage. He slammed his fist squarely into her face, disorienting her.

  Mikey had a gun in his hand. The ringing in her ears had died off, and Abby could hear him screaming at her, inches from her ear.

  “Who sent you?”

  Abby spit blood and tried to twist away, but he still held her tight.

  Pressing the gun to her head, he screamed at her again, red-faced, shaking. “Who sent you?”

  Franco now had his gun on her, while Monte climbed to his feet. Abby scanned the room for a way out, but all she saw were the three bodies on the floor.

  Three to one.

  Two of the three remaining had guns trained on her; she had only her knife, still strapped to her thigh.

  Mikey used his hold on her to force her to her knees. She grabbed at his hands to free herself from his grip, but it was futile. He pressed his gun into her flesh harder. “This is the last time I’m going to ask. Who sent you?”

  Abby stared straight ahead, eyes darting, her mind searching for a way out. She had to buy time, say something, but as she opened her mouth to speak, she heard another voice.

  “Get the fuck outta town,” Monte said with a smile, almost laughing.

  Mikey looked at him, confused at first, but then understood. “You know her?”

  Monte bent at the waist to meet Abby face to face. He smiled as he wrapped his meaty hand around her jaw and lifted her face so their eyes met. “You fuckin
’ bitch! Are you serious?”

  Abby shook her head to get away from his hand, and then spit in his face. “Burn in hell, Monte.”

  He slapped her hard across the face, laughing as he reached into his pocket for a tissue. “Whoa, look who grew a pair!” He looked at Mikey and Franco. “You don’t recognize this bitch? This is Bryce’s girl.”

  Mikey and Franco both looked at her, and after a moment, recognized her.

  “Oh, the boss will love this,” Mikey said.

  “Get her up,” Franco said, and then looked at Monte, who was inspecting his shoulder. “You alright?”

  “Yeah,” Monte said. “It grazed me. Bitch can’t aim for shit.”

  Franco held his gun on her while Mikey took her knife and inspected it. “Is this the one you had on Trial Island? The same knife? Seriously? You think this is a fuckin’ movie or something? You think you’re a tough girl from TV, so you can walk in here and mess with us?”

  Monte bent over to pick up the .45. “This is a big gun for a little girl, don’t you think?” He pointed it at her square between the eyes, smiling, then dragged the barrel along her skin, tracing an outline around her entire face and then down between her breasts. He laughed, slid the gun into his beltline, and then retrieved the .22 that had skidded into a dark corner. “You and me are gonna have fun with these later.” He looked at Mikey. “Let’s bring her to the boss.”

  Franco and Mikey each took an arm to follow Monte up the stairs to Rosso.

  For her part, Abby didn’t resist. At least they were bringing her to where she wanted to go.

  * * *

  On their way up the stairs, Monte thought about the movement he saw out of the corner of his eye in the doorway to the foyer that had caused him to look away a split second before that flash-bang grenade went off. He also thought about the smoking bullet hole in the wall just inches in front of his nose after the blast. A second later, Mikey came running from the foyer. It was obvious to him what happened.

  As they climbed the stairs toward Rosso’s room, Monte made up his mind what he was going to do about it.

  9

  ROSSO WAS SITTING UP in bed. “Eight men?”

  Mikey nodded his head.

  Rosso looked at Abby, standing between Mikey and Franco, each with a hand on one of her arms. Mikey casually held onto her arm with his right hand, holding Abby’s knife in his left.

  Rosso shook his head. “You came into my house and took down eight of my men before anyone got a hand on you?”

  “The dog, too... if that counts for anything.” Abby gave Rosso a wink and offered a coy smile. She wasn’t being sarcastic; she was being flirty. She was also very impressed with herself. It had taken her just under fifteen minutes to cripple one of the largest organized crime syndicates in the country. Not bad, she thought.

  Rosso eased back into the pillows that were propping him up. “Eight...” He shook his head. “You know, you should come work for me.”

  Abby smiled at him, the way a child smiles at her daddy when she’s trying to get out of trouble.

  “Now why are you here? Obviously you want something.”

  “Bryce,” Abby said. “Where is he?”

  “What?”

  “That’s why I’m here. I’m looking for Bryce.”

  Rosso shook his head. “He’s not here, sweetheart.”

  “I know, but you know where he is. I know you do.”

  Rosso shook his head again. “Six feet under.” He stared into her eyes, trying to read her. “You didn’t hear?”

  Monte spoke from his position behind her, Abby’s .22 still in his hand. “Bank robbery gone bad. It was all over the news.” He leaned in close, groping her backside with his free hand. “I would have thought you’d have heard. Where have you been anyway? I’ve missed this sweet little ass.”

  She couldn’t see him behind her, but Abby could hear the smile on his face and the sarcasm dripping from his voice. Of course, he knew she had heard. Son of a bitch probably helped Bryce plan the whole thing to get me out of hiding.

  She wanted to turn around and lunge for his throat but wasn’t sure she could take all three men at once, being unarmed. For the first time since entering the room, Abby acknowledged just how panicked she was.

  Stay cool, Abby. Stay cool. You can do this.

  Abby looked at Rosso. “Everyone in this room, including me, knows that Bryce is alive. I came here to find out where he is, and one of you is going to tell me.”

  Rosso took his eyes from Abby and looked at the other men one by one, a small smile inching across his face. “Can you believe the balls on this little girl?”

  When his eyes met Franco’s, they both chuckled. Mikey joined in and so did Monte from behind.

  Abby couldn’t help herself and started laughing, too, which sent Rosso over the edge to a full belly laugh, in turn causing the other men to laugh even harder.

  She managed to compose herself and catch her breath. “That’s funny, huh? I mean, really, what am I going to do?”

  Looking at their laughing faces gave her a certain satisfaction for what was about to happen. She gave Rosso a dead serious stare, which caused his heart monitor to drop off for a moment.

  In one swift motion, her left knee shot up, giving her the momentum to drive the heel of her foot into the side of Mikey’s knee. She heard the joint pop as his leg twisted in an unnatural direction and he collapsed to the ground like a bridge with the support beams knocked out, screaming in agony.

  She nailed Franco in the gut with her right elbow, and as he doubled over, she twisted her body and smashed the heel of her open palm into his nose, sending blood pouring from his face.

  Spinning on her left foot, she swung around to kick Monte full force in the stomach, but he was too fast and jumped out of the way.

  That’s when Abby’s plan suddenly fell apart in the most unusual way.

  Monte aimed the .22, not at Abby, but at Franco doubled over on the ground, and sank two slugs into the back of his skull.

  Rosso’s heart monitor screamed, and so did he. “No! Franco!”

  Abby froze. She couldn’t understand what just happened. It was as though she were watching it on television and not actually there.

  Mikey rolled over to see what happened, but before he could react, Monte took aim and put two holes in his forehead. Mikey collapsed, lifeless.

  Monte walked over to Franco and rolled him over with his foot, confirming he was dead.

  Abby finally found words in her throat. “What... why? Why are you helping me?”

  He looked over and sneered at her. “I’m not. You’re just last.”

  As he raised the gun toward her, she saw a shiny flash of light by Mikey’s left hand about eight feet from where she stood. He fired the first shot as she dove through the air. A split second later, her hand wrapped around the familiar leather grip. She rolled on her shoulder, came to a crouched position, and fired her knife. It sliced through the short distance across the room and plunged into Monte’s neck.

  Choking and gurgling sounds escaped his mouth as his hands reached up and tenderly touched the handle attached to the steel blade embedded in his neck. He struggled and raised the .22 as Abby charged and collided with him full force, knocking him backward into the wall.

  He dropped the .22 and wrapped his hands around her neck, using every last ounce of his strength to choke the life out of her. Abby thrashed, but his grip was strong. She couldn’t break free.

  Abby landed several punches to his midsection, but nothing loosened his grip. Then she remembered what he said earlier: “You and me are gonna have fun with these later.”

  Despite the blackness closing in from the sides of her vision, she smiled as she reached forward, found his belt buckle, the .45 tucked above it, flicked off the safety, and fired one massive slug right down his pants where it had been resting.

  Monte released his grip immediately as a scream, or something trying to be one, found its way to his throat.
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br />   Abby took a step back as he fell to his knees, and she ripped her knife from his throat, causing blood to gush from his neck as he collapsed to the floor.

  Abby’s hands shook as she stood there holding her knife, having freshly taken the life of a man she knew surely deserved it.

  It took her another moment to realize how fast her heart was racing as she took her breath in gasps. She wanted to close her eyes, breath deeply, and calm herself, but she couldn’t look away from the devastation in the room. As she surveyed the bodies, all silently laid out on the floor, she had forgotten there was anyone else in the room. She nearly jumped when she heard Rosso’s weak voice from the bed.

  “He must have known,” Rosso said from behind her.

  “What?” she turned, startled.

  Rosso looked physically uncomfortable. He winced with pain, his breathing labored. “I put a hit on him. Not even thirty minutes ago...” He drifted off mid-sentence, looking at Franco. A tear escaped his eye.

  “Franco,” he continued. “Franco was supposed to take over. Monte over there, he wasn’t so keen on it, so I instructed Mikey to take care of him.” He gestured to the man whose leg was splayed in the wrong direction.

  “Oh, Franco...” Another tear rolled down the old man’s cheek as he patted his chest. Abby had heard the beeping of his heart monitor as background noise during the fighting and confusion, but it seemed to be in a fight with itself at the moment. His heart was speeding up, slowing down, and every few seconds there was a beep that seemed pretty out of sequence with the rest.

  He looked to Abby. “He was like a son to me, Franco.” He looked at the knife still in her hand. “It doesn’t matter anymore. None of it.”

  She wiped the blade clean on a cloth at the end of the bed and deliberately slid the knife back into its sheath on her leg.

  He shook his head, and Abby noticed a bead of sweat run down his temple. “I had a son once. He’s gone. Franco is gone.” He looked her in the eye. “If there is one man who can keep this family on its feet, it’s Bryce, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to sell him out to you.”